


infinite

by ediblemomo (junnir)



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:23:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junnir/pseuds/ediblemomo
Summary: paper cranes, sunsets and broken hearts - just some of the things in their very own ghastly white fairytale.(a love story between an amnesiac and a dying girl.)





	infinite

**Author's Note:**

> day6's when you love someone was on loop

she is roused awake by the incessant chirping of the recalcitrant bunch of birds that never seem to know when to quit, that took up residence by the tree right outside her window, that painted the baby blue skies green and yellow and black and whatever other colours their feathers were painted with. she lifts a hand up to her face to shield her face from the glaring sunshine of two in the afternoon, only peeking through her fingers to allow her eyes to adjust to the light.

 

out of the corner of her eye, she sees her. her ears catch onto more than just the chirping birds, finally noticing a familiar voice humming in a soft and low tone. it was that song again, she thinks, as she rolls over in her bed to address the supposed intruder sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room.

 

the girl is hunched over a little, eyes fixated on nothing but the incomplete paper ornament in her hands, her slender fingers working its way around the pink square, giving it folds and creases that will eventually, for the umpteenth time, breathe life into the crane she so loved and cherished.

 

when she finally catches the girl’s attention, the paper crane has come to life and taken up its own residence on the table that housed a few million, trillion more of those little paper birds.

 

“momoring, you’re up!”

 

she doesn’t have to smile for the paper crane girl to know that she is smiling, at least on the inside. it has become routine, as her eyes met hers and she became the first thing she saw every time she woke up and opened her eyes, and they did away with the daily greetings and pleasantries after a while. it feels nice, not needing words to communicate with another being like this. it feels really nice.

 

“you slept like a log, momoring. you missed breakfast _and_ lunch, so I had your share for you. today’s stew was unbelievably good!”

 

at least, the part on not needing words applies more to her. she had become a woman of few words after whatever happened had happened. (not like she knew if she was a woman of many words before _that_ , anyway.) paper crane girl is fond of words, fond of expressing herself as much as she could, from endless sentences to physical touches.

 

sometimes, momo finds a need to strike a balance with the girl. call it being civil, call it courtesy, call it whatever you want; it just feels nice to create a kind of harmony with the girl that they could call their own.

 

after all, in a place like this, it’s not every day you get to meet and have someone to call your own. or as close as ‘your own’ could ever be.

 

“glad you had your fill, sana.”

 

paper crane girl – sana – gives her an electric smile and everything feels right again. she rolls over in bed, back to her original fetal position, and buries her head deep into her pillow as she decides to lull herself back into dreamland.

 

when she wakes up again in the late evening, sana is still there, breathing life into yet another paper crane, humming that same tune over and over, in that armchair she eventually came to call her own.

 

they make eye contact, she gives that smile of hers, and everything feels right, as it always does.

 

(at least with her it does.)

 

=

 

the cold cushioned chairs in the doctor’s office always feels foreign to the touch. nobody ever likes being seated in one, because in those quiet moments before the doctor delivers a diagnosis, that silence is deafening and the uncomfortable chairs never make it any better.

 

for momo, that silence became less deafening over time. she likes to think that in some morbid way, she has truly become deaf after so many encounters with that annoying but familiar silence, like an old friend she just couldn’t rid herself of.

 

and yet, she is never ever deaf enough to miss the way the doctor says ‘we’ll have to keep you here for a while more.’

 

 _just for observation’s sake_ , she finishes the sentence in her head, watching the doctor’s dry lips move, the deafness finally returning as she becomes more and more accustomed to the news.

 

she stops listening after the first ten or so times, then she stops caring altogether after the next fifty.

 

if there still exists a home for her beyond the ghastly white walls of this hospital, she probably couldn’t find it within herself to get used to calling it her own again.

 

besides, there are perks to living in a hospital. she never ever has to cook for herself, even if the food here tastes bland and a little like _death_ itself. she never has to clean her room or wash her clothes, or make the bed or lock the doors.

 

plus, over here she at least had someone she could call her own. she at least could wake up to the same sight every morning; sana, sitting in that armchair, folding her precious paper cranes, humming that song that even she now knows by heart.

 

when the doctor’s lips stop moving, she figures he’s done humming a song of his own, done with breaking the bad news to her that she honestly didn’t feel that bad to receive. she thanks him, void of any kind of gratitude, and slips out of the office the same way she had entered.

 

right by the door, waiting on the other side, is sana. it’s always her.

 

“you’re done?”

 

with life in her eyes and light in her smile; the same paper crane girl who was impossible not to know. momo nods, a little smile ghosting over her lips, the ends curling up by just the slightest bit.

 

“let’s go, then!”

 

“where?”

 

“anywhere,” and sana takes her hand in hers and they glide down the hallway together, falling into the same step barely a second into the run.

 

the doctors can observe her as long as they want; there is no telling when she could ever get those wretched memories back; when she could ever reclaim her identity as the girl she once was.

 

she figures it’s not that bad, to lose herself like this, in the company of someone like sana.

 

=

 

she thinks to herself that this must be what high school felt like.

 

she is almost ready to leave the cubicle in the restroom when she hears two voices make their entrance, high-pitched and jarring to her ears.

 

she hears them talk and doesn’t register nor care for their words as she lets the toilet flush.

 

it’s only after the flush quietens when she hears her own name come up in the conversation.

 

the owners of the high-pitched voices zip their mouths shut the moment momo emerges from the cubicle, hastily shutting the faucet and scurrying out of the restroom at lightning speed.

 

momo washes her hands, slowly lathers them up with soap, and suddenly she recalls their words and realises she might probably be a little fazed.

 

(just a little.)

 

=

 

“they said I’m only here out of heartbreak.”

 

“now that’s just silly.”

 

sana lays out all her paper cranes over the polished oak floor in momo’s ward, counting them mindlessly one by one as momo sits in another corner, back against the wall.

 

“right,” momo replies, suddenly sounding unsure of herself. sana hears it, so she throws a paper crane in momo’s direction that the latter deftly catches.

 

“you know it’s silly, don’t you? people don’t end up here out of heartbreak.” she goes back to counting her beloved paper cranes, circling a bunch up after she’s done sorting them out by a pattern only she knows for sure. “besides, you’re momo. your heart is too precious to have been broken by anybody before.”

 

(she sounds so sincere with those words that momo lets herself believe that sana would do anything to keep her heart safe, and she feels protected in that moment. she lets herself feel that way, just once.)

 

“if anything,” sana circles up another group of paper cranes, a little playful grin tugging at her lips, “I probably know more about heartbreak than you do.”

 

“that’s not fair. I wouldn’t even be able to remember if I’ve had my heart broken before.”

 

“now who says that’s a bad thing?”

 

momo plays around with the paper crane she had caught earlier, before flying it in sana’s direction. it lands by one of sana’s feet and the latter picks it up as if it is a real bird that got hurt.

 

“what could you possibly know about broken hearts?”

 

sana puts the paper crane in a corner, all on its own, as if solitude could nurse the hurt away.

 

“more than you do, probably.”

 

=

 

momo sips on the avocado milkshake sana had snuck out of her own ward just one mealtime ago. she lets the cool, green delight wash down the bland aftertaste of the hospital food she’s grown accustomed to, that tasted and felt a lot like death, before she feels guilty for enjoying it.

 

it’s an unspoken rule that better treats are offered to those who deserved them more, and that, too, is an unspoken rule of how one should view those whose ends are near.

 

the drink tastes worse than death when the thought hits her.

 

and yet, despite the gravity of it all, sana is still a happier person than she could ever fathom herself to be.

 

“how is it? is it good?”

 

with hopeful eyes and a megawatt smile, sana is perched by the edge of momo’s bed, having woken her up from one of her usual dreamland trips with the enticing treat of a milkshake. momo doesn’t make to reply, only handing the milkshake back to her with a slight tremor in her hands that she hopes the other girl doesn’t notice.

 

sana pouts, her lower lip jutting out by the slightest of inches, as she grabs hold of the milkshake momo had returned her. “that bad?”

 

momo shakes her head, willing herself to forget the way her skin tingled when her fingers brushed against sana’s own. “you should have it. it’s yours.”

 

the paper crane girl rolls her eyes, pout giving way to a cheeky grin. “trust you to say something as silly-sounding as that!” she makes a dramatic show of a small sip of the milkshake. “there, does that make it better? now I’ve drank a bit too, so we’re _sharing_.” she hands the milkshake back to the girl, the push-and-pull of the green dessert becoming a little silly in the light of it all.

 

“what’s mine is yours, momoring. stop being such a downer and just take it. your eyes pretty much lit up when you took that first sip earlier!”

 

sana leans forward when momo still hasn’t moved after minutes, and she shifts herself such that she could look straight into the girl’s eyes, the milkshake still left untouched between them.

 

“just enjoy it, momo. let yourself live a little, won’t you? you’ve got to find at least a bit of happiness somehow.”

 

she brings the straw to her lips despite the aftertaste that’s worse than death, if anything only in a bid to make the paper crane girl smile that electric smile of hers again.

 

=

 

weeks later, momo leaves the doctor’s office again, with sana waiting right outside for her. her face tells of the usual despondence, coupled with a little indifference, nothing but the usual emotions that painted her countenance each time she received the same old diagnosis. (it honestly does feel a little like going back time after time to listen to the same old broken recorder. momo hates it.)

 

“let’s go,” sana says, taking momo’s hand in hers without a second to spare.

 

“where?”

 

“just for today, we’re going to somewhere special.”

 

the door to the rooftop deck of the hospital has always been locked tight with a heavy-cast iron chain strapped across the front of it like a protective seatbelt of sorts. today, somehow, and almost as if by magic, the chain is lying in a tangled mess of itself by their feet, as they come to a stop by the door. sana is practically beaming as she gestures for momo to open the door.

 

“how did you…”

 

“it doesn’t matter, momoring! we’re here now, so let’s go have some fun.”

 

the rooftop deck is a quaint little observatory deck of sorts, boasting of a small and unmanaged garden that had tendrils and leaves sticking out in the weirdest of areas. the ledge is low enough for the two girls to catch a glimpse of the world standing safely behind, but high enough to prevent accidental falls.

 

“sunset’s happening in thirty minutes,” sana says, tugging on momo’s hand to beckon for the girl to follow her. (their hands are still tightly wound in each other’s.)

 

they stand in silence, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, as the sky brightens and darkens all at once over the course of the next half an hour.

 

it almost brings a tear to momo’s eye because of how _alive_ she feels.

 

and it almost feels like this sunset could burn away any last of the nightmares she still gets from time to time, of her car skidding across lanes and flipping over, of her body getting tattered and bruised and hurt and damaged, of her memories disappearing one by one all in the blink of an eye.

 

“you’re crying.”

 

there is a gentle but firm squeeze on her hand, and she feels the life surge through her veins. for the first time in a long time, she feels infinitely thankful that she is alive.

 

another hand reaches over to wipe the little drops away from her cheeks, and she wants nothing more than to thank her for bringing her here.

 

instead, what comes out of her mouth is a little different.

 

“I’m happy.”

 

“yeah?”

 

sana’s voice is music to her ears as momo turns to take in that ethereal smile only sana could call her own.

 

she’s never sounded surer when the words come tumbling out from her lips, and she’s sure she’s never sounded this sure before, not even before she lost her memories.

 

“you make me happy.”

 

the sun finally sets as momo breathes sana in, her warm lips capturing the latter’s cold ones, as fingers entangle and hearts intertwine and they’re both sure they’ve both never felt this alive.

 

=

 

“the credit isn’t all mine, you know.”

 

the armchair’s become home for two as they find a way to both inhabit it, limbs and curves melting to fit the shape of the armchair sana had claimed as property since a long time ago.

 

“hmm?”

 

sana buries her face a little deeper into the nook of momo’s neck. “about me making you happy. it’s not all me.”

 

momo laughs quietly, the sound of it reverberating through both their bodies. “it is. it is now, at least. maybe I used to be happier, once upon a time. but how does any of that matter if I’m never going to remember what it felt like?”

 

“who says you’ll never remember?”

 

“I figured there’s probably a reason why my brain doesn’t want to remember anything before. maybe it was telling me I needed a fresh start of sorts. so that I could end up here and meet you.”

 

“now you’re just making up your own fairytale, momoring.”

 

“what’s the difference anyway? those memories I’ll never remember, they’re once upon a time too. at least I get to live out this one.”

 

momo lowers her lips till she reaches the proximity of sana’s ear. in a low whisper, she lets her vulnerability show, for fear that if she were any louder, her vulnerability would leave her defenceless and at risk of having more taken from her.

 

“that accident took so much more from me than just my memories. for a while there I thought it took away my ability to feel, to think, to love… to be happy. then… you happened. and so, I figured that if the accident took so much from me, it’s got to give me something too. or in this case… someone.”

 

no words could ever suffice as a response, so all sana does is to press her lips to momo’s in an unspoken promise that she understands her. and it’s in this raw moment when both of them could not possibly feel more vulnerable, more exposed, and yet still perfectly fine despite the fragility of it all.

 

“I guess you’re what was given to me, too,” sana murmurs against momo’s lips as they part for air.

 

“what did it take from you?”

 

there’s a slight twinkle in sana’s eye and momo recognises it as one of the mischievous glints, so she’s not in the least bit surprised when sana presents a small, subdued grin. “make a guess?”

 

momo’s always going to be enthralled at the way sana makes light of her sufferings, as if she is literally able to find joy out of even the worst things in life. it must be one of the reasons why she makes momo happy, because a girl as infectiously happy as her is more than a force to be reckoned with.

 

“I don’t know how much it’s taken from you, but if you’re still here smiling and living life to the fullest every single day…”

 

sana’s smile doesn’t falter even in the slightest. “this sickness, it’s taken a lot from me.”

 

there is weight in her words but her bubblegum voice makes her words sound like pebbles skipping across the ocean, and momo finds herself wondering aloud. “how much exactly?”

 

“more than you could ever imagine.”

 

the gentle grip on momo’s arm tightens by just the slightest bit.

 

“and it’s still taking from me every day.”

 

=

 

she is roused awake, once again, by the incessant chirping of the recalcitrant bunch of birds that never seem to know when to quit, that still resided by the tree right outside her window, that painted the baby blue skies green and yellow and black and whatever other colours their feathers were still painted with. she lifts a hand up to her face to shield her face from the glaring sunshine of two in the afternoon, only peeking through her fingers to allow her eyes to adjust to the light.

 

except today, out the corner of her eye, there is no her. no breathing life into paper cranes, no humming of that same old tune she now knows by heart.

 

she’s never felt quite as scared, and she’s someone who’s lived through waking up with a splitting headache, zero recollection of anything that’s ever happened and no clue of who she was.

 

she stumbles through the hospital with trembling legs and shaking hands, fear paralysing her from the inside out, as she tries to recall where sana’s ward is. by the time she’s at the door, she’s a nervous wreck. she knocks even when she knows she could just walk right in, if anything only in a bid to have her come answer the door.

 

she waits out the world’s longest five minutes before the door finally slides open to reveal sana, the ghastly white paint of the hospital’s walls seemingly having bled onto her face.

 

momo doesn’t even get her name out of her lips when the latter goes limp against her body, her still-shaking hands trying their damnedest to keep the girl afloat.

 

=

 

momo never knew that she could ever feel more scared than she did when she woke up without seeing sana there.

 

it hits her when her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach as she hears sana retch from behind the curtains that circled the bed in her ward like a protective cocoon. it hits her when she realises that sana probably needed her the most then, and yet she was helpless against the invisible wall that kept them apart from each other.

 

it hits her when the curtains open, revealing sana, lying on her bed like a fallen petal from a flower that had outgrown its expiry date. (beautiful, but tragic.) it hits her the worst when sana is just lying there, her heart bared for all to see, as she watches her chest heave up and down and her still-beating blood-pumping muscle cast a pulsating outline onto her skin from within.

 

it hits her when sana calls out for her, and when she realises that the words coming from those lips next will burn themselves into her heart, her mind, her brain, her soul, and she will never, ever, _ever_ forget whatever the girl has to say next. (like a promise she knows she can never break.)

 

it hits her the worst when she realises that this isn’t the first time she’s felt this way.

 

she finds it within herself to reach the girl who once brought her more than just the sunset (sana has always been the sun). this time, fingers entangle and hearts intertwine, and momo doesn’t just want to breathe sana in; she wants nothing more than to breathe life into sana, too.

 

(what will life without sana be, anyway?)

 

sana’s doing that thing she does again, finding joy out of even the worst things in life, as her fingers brush against momo’s and she tries her hardest to give her that same electric smile that she knew swept her off her feet in the very beginning.

 

“you’ll live well, won’t you?”

 

(momo doesn’t want her tears to blur her vision now, not when she has to take in all that she still can of sana’s countenance, of every curve and ridge on her face and every mole and blemish that made her beautifully imperfect face beautifully perfect.

 

but the question bugs her, and she finds herself wondering against her will;

 

_what will life without sana be, anyway?_

 

and it keeps nagging at her until the tears ravage her vision anyway.)

 

sana tries again because she knows it’s a promise momo can’t break.

 

“wouldn’t it be a waste if I’ve accompanied you all this while and you still choose not to live well?”

 

=

 

(it ends as it begins.)

 

=

 

the cold cushioned chairs in the doctor’s office always feels foreign to the touch. nobody ever likes being seated in one, because in those quiet moments before the doctor delivers a diagnosis, that silence is deafening and the uncomfortable chairs never make it any better.

 

except today, it’s not a diagnosis he’s delivering.

 

it’s the truth he was asked to keep from his patient.

 

he knew he was breaking a fair number of ethical rules when he agreed to the other girl’s request.

 

but what was ethics in the face of the rawness and entirety of true love?

 

and what was ethics in the face of a dying wife, here to plead for a bit more time with the woman she loved, who no longer remembered her or even herself?

 

( _don’t let her remember, doctor. tell her everything only after I’m gone. it won’t be that long a wait anyway._ )

 

( _let me be there for her, at least until I go. I need to know that she’ll be fine without me._ )

 

=

 

she walks out of the hospital weeks later, with a handwritten letter surrounded by the infinite paper cranes that now belong to her.

 

=

 

_dear momo,_

_I’m sorry for many things, like keeping the truth from you, even though I promised I’d never lie to you in the wedding vows I wrote to you years ago_

_but most of all,_

_I’m sorry I can’t be there for you any longer_

_remember when we talked about broken hearts?_

_I kept the truth from you because I didn’t want you to have your heart broken another time_

_it broke once when you first realised years ago that there was no cure for my sickness_

_and again, when you realised that there was nothing you could do but watch while I faded away_

_and I never want it to break again_

_because it’s not your fault, and it never was_

_you asked me then what I knew about broken hearts and I said I knew more than you did_

_maybe that was a lie; maybe I was the biggest culprit and I was the one who kept breaking yours_

_but I think god gave us another chance when your memories were wiped out after that accident_

_and I think I learned a bit more over the past few months with you_

_so, what do I know about broken hearts, you ask?_

_I know how it felt like to have it break every day just knowing that I couldn’t stay_

_because even though god gave us another chance, he didn’t give me another one_

_I’ll still have to leave but I know I’ll live on in your memories_

_one day you’ll remember who I was and who we were_

_and that you’ve always loved me, even before you forgot_

_and I know you always will_

_just know that I will always love you too_

_I’ll love you as much as I have to and for as long as I can,_

_till these paper cranes turn into real ones_

_love, sana_

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry
> 
> p.s. on the bright side, samo kissed!??!?!?!?!??!
> 
> and it's not their first kiss either!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!
> 
> (@ediblemomo on twitter)


End file.
